


A Little Pick Me Up

by FullSizeRender



Series: Stardew Valley One-Shots [1]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Melancholy, One Shot, Oneshot, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullSizeRender/pseuds/FullSizeRender
Summary: My girlfriend and I did an art trade and she requested a short kinda-sad-but-hopeful-in-the-end Shane drabble





	A Little Pick Me Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SyntheticAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntheticAngel/gifts).



Pelican Town. It’s a cute name, but it didn’t tell him much on his bus ride in. As he stared out of the window, he watched the ghosts of skyscrapers pass him by in the form of lush green hills. The majestic, flower-covered mounds are practically offensive to his bloodshot eyes, but it didn’t seem to bother his goddaughter. She’s awestruck, her little face mashed against the grimy window with glee as she tries to point out every last pretty flower. He knows it’s pointless, but she doesn’t. Maybe that’s what makes it so endearing.

 

               As the bus pulled up to the only stop in town, a familiar face lay in wait for them, arms pre-folded for maximum judging power. The man was none too pleased to know he was starting his first day off like this, but he swallowed his snarl and bit his tongue for his goddaughter’s sake. Pelican Town was supposed to be a new start, he remembered. He had to play the part.

 

               “There you are! C’mere Jas!” The young girl practically flung herself at her aunt, and the older woman scooped her up with ease. As they twirled they giggled in unison, the high-pitched laughter downright grating against the man’s already throbbing head. As they finally come to a stop, the older woman’s smile wilts and she makes eye contact with the now slightly-frowning man.

 

               “Marnie.”

               “Shane. C’mon, your room’s all set up.”

 

               It’s as if Marnie knew just by looking at him that he itched for liquor, and that disapproving glare rattled him down to his core. His skin crawled, his back coated in a cold sweat. The bus ride was hell, but at least now that he was in the city limits he could get a drink, right? If only. Marnie practically strong-armed him into staying in for the night in the name of ‘settling in’, and once Jas co-signed on it, his fate was sealed. Unpacking, rearranging, tidying up, meeting the animals, eating…and not a drop of booze in sight. Shane would have killed for something – _anything_ – that could relieve his cravings. Rather than spending the night in a drunken stupor the way he wanted to, the young man pored over the pages of a novel on raising chickens to distract himself. Even his worst nights felt better than this.

 

               The next morning was a dizzying blur of meeting country bumpkins he never wanted to see again and fumbling through a job interview at the only place he remotely recognized: JojaMart. It was a miracle he managed to make it through, thinking that his disheveled hair and unshaven face would disqualify him on the spot. Luckily for Shane, Morris was as desperate for support as he was for a drink. That enormous, tacky bowtie bounced with excitement as he showed his new employee around the store, capping the tour off by handing out the standard-issue JojaMart blue jacket. Not the best-looking piece of clothing, but it was free so he wasn’t about to complain to the guy’s face on the first day.

 

               “So that’s it! Do you have any questions?” Morris adjusted his combover expectantly, hoping for an inquiry about how restocking works, or promotional opportunities. Perhaps an interest in all the fine products being sold on the pristine shelves, bathed in harsh fluorescent lights?

               “Yeah. Gimme an advance on my paycheck.” Shane spat. The storeowner flinched at the surprisingly…curt tone that Shane used.

               “That…that’s not exactly a question-” The customer service representative fidgeted uncomfortably, adjusting his comically small spectacles as he struggled to find something to say that wasn’t a preplanned talking point.

               “Sorry, lemme try again. Gimme an advance on my paycheck _please_?” The unshaven man’s tone was violently sarcastic, and it made his boss shrink into his already ill-fitted suit. Not that his uneasiness really meant anything; it only took a few moments of silence for Morris to understand that he was serious, and he scurried away to retrieve the glittering gold coins.

 

               2000 gold coins sat in his jacket pocket as he strode out of the store, Shane’s eyes now fixated on his new home: The Stardrop Saloon. The money from JojaMart was paltry, but it would be enough for a down payment on a bar stool, slightly worn. It clearly had some mileage on it, but that didn’t bother him. He didn’t need an extra fancy chair to drown his sorrows when even the ground served him just fine.

Gus tried to talk to him at first, but it was like making idle chit chat with a brick wall that had the vocabulary of a sailor. The amicable bartender never made any headway, and any time he tried to he was met with an embarrassing amount of swear words. However, what that handlebar mustache couldn’t get from Shane in conversation, he could see in the drunkard’s eyes. Crimson blood vessels slither and snake throughout his eyes, and behind that sat something far worse: a lonely man. It wasn’t difficult to infer that a man who spent a majority of his paycheck on cheap booze was sad, but sadness like this wasn’t solved with alcohol. Every day was exactly the same, and every day the void in his eyes seemed to grow. Depression had that man in a vice, and the beer kept him from trying to escape.

Marnie and the bartender talked – while Shane was passed out, naturally – about what to do with him. She couldn’t kick out family, she said. It wasn’t right. And he couldn’t ban his best customer, even if he was rapidly closing in on rock bottom. They’d go back and forth for hours, mulling over ideas until his aunt eventually gave in and helped him home. No matter how much she hated his habits, she couldn’t abandon him, nor could she let Jas find the only real parental figure she had left in such an awful state of affairs.

Needless to say, it was a sad first year.

His second year didn’t exactly fare any better, but he managed to start dragging himself home for a change.

The third year wasn’t as productive as the year before.

But it was the fourth year that, for the first time, Shane started the long road to recovery. Funnily enough, it began where every other night had: The Stardrop Saloon.

 

There had been chatter of a new farmer in town, but Shane had neither the patience – nor the desire – to greet anything that wasn’t the bottom of a mug. Around him, patrons excitedly chittered about the woman’s work ethic, and how she both cleared off a quarter of her land and planted parsnips in the span of a day and still had time to walk around town. Others jabbered about how impossibly sweet she was, and how she passed out ‘welcome’ gifts to everyone she met out of the goodness of her heart. As far as the town was concerned she was a saint.

Shane just wanted them to shut up so he could drink in peace.

 

He hit his limit as the clock struck midnight, and Gus shooed him out so Shane could make his long shuffle home. He used the familiar fences as crutches, dragging himself through the neighborhood as he dipped in and out of consciousness. Each blink felt like minutes passed between them, and it never felt as though he was making any real progress. He _especially_ didn’t make any progress when he stopped to vomit in some bushes, lost his footing and finally crumbled into a heap on the cobblestone walkway.

It wasn’t rock bottom, but it was pretty damn close. He slowly rolled onto his back, eyes now locked with the moon that loomed high above his head. Its bright, immaculate shape taunting the intoxicated husk of a man. Why couldn’t he be perfect like that big, dumb rock? Why couldn’t he just rise and fall every day rather than drink himself silly? What did he do to deserve to be so god damn unhappy? (That question had an answer, but there was so much to unpack there that he’d be on the ground until morning figuring it out.)

 

“Why me?” Shane muttered into the starry sky, choking back dry sobs (or heaves).

 

The JojaMart employee’s eyes shut slowly. It wasn’t his first time spending a night under the stars, and it wouldn’t be his last if the booze had anything to say about it…

 

“Goodness, are you okay?” The voice, a woman’s, was too sweet for Shane to comprehend. He was sure that he had started hallucinating, so he kept silent until he could pry his eyes open. Boy, did he hope and pray he wasn’t dreaming.

Standing over him was a woman with sun-kissed olive skin, and pink hair that reminded him distinctly of spring’s cherry blossoms. She was literally the embodiment of spring, and Shane could feel his heart pounding in his chest with drunken infatuation the likes of which Pelican Town had never seen before-and would likely never see again. With a bit of effort, the forest spirit helped him to his feet, and aided the slovenly man on his quest to collapse in his bed.

She got him as far as his door before finally releasing him to his own devices, confident that he could put himself to bed without her assistance. The forest nymph turned to disappear, but was stopped by a sudden grunt from her escort.

 

“Yes? Are you going to be alright?” She asked with a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame. “I’d hate to leave if you weren’t feeling well.”

“Whaddya…what…what do I call you, nature imp? Ya…leaf angel? Spring elf? You r-really…really helped me out here.” Shane blubbered, his chest tight with a sudden influx of emotions. Love, fear, excitement, embarrassment, gratefulness…everything he had been drowning out came bubbling up to the surface, and he was ready to blow.

“Heh. Those are new on me.” The woman sheepishly smiled, using her thumb to tuck loose hairs behind her ear. “Well…my friends call me Ivy, so I guess that means you can too. It’d be nice to see you when you’re feeling better.”

 

It’s a lot easier to turn your entire life around when you’ve got an imaginary forest nymph asking you to.


End file.
